One More Light
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Missing scenes from "Imperfection". Seven's illness and Icheb's sacrifice affect Chakotay more deeply than he lets on. C/7. Requested by Alaster Boneman.


One More Light

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Star Trek: Voyager_

Copyright: CBS

/

"_Who cares if one more light goes out  
In a sky of a million stars?  
It flickers, flickers …  
Who cares when someone's time runs out  
If a moment is all we are?  
We're quicker, quicker …  
Who cares if one more light goes out?  
Well, I do."_

Linkin Park, "One More Light"

/

Chakotay found Seven on the upper level of Engineering when he came to pick up B'Elanna's daily report. He liked to make a ritual of this, speaking to all the department heads in person, even if it wasn't as efficient as accepting the reports via padd. If he had, though, he would have missed this sight: the two women standing side by side, talking in low voices, working together more peacefully than he'd ever seen them before.

Coming closer, though, he realized why … and froze.

Seven's illness was getting worse. He knew this from the Captain's and the Doctor's failed attempt to get her a new cortical node, but now he could see it. She was too thin under her exosuit; new Borg implants had torn through her skin like stuffing out of a rag doll. She was typing one-handed, using her other hand to brace herself against the console for support. Next to B'Elanna with her sharp eyes, glossy hair and energetic movements, the contrast was devastating.

It wasn't the first time he had seen a colleague, or even a friend, suffer. It wasn't the first time he had been unable to help. Still, it felt as if someone had reached into his chest and was squeezing all the blood from his heart.

"Commander," she greeted him politely, as if this were any other day.

"Seven." He ordered his feet to move until he reached the station, unable to meet either woman's eyes. "Lieutenant. Are you … shouldn't you … "

What could he possibly say?

"If one more person asks me why I am not in Sickbay, I will make it _their_ turn to require medical assistance." Seven's voice was down to a hoarse murmur, but she could hold up her head and flash her eyes as defiantly as ever.

This broke the ice, and Chakotay managed a shaky half-smile. "Rubbing off on her, eh, Torres?"

"Oh, shut up." B'Elanna reached across her console to swat him on the arm with a padd. "Your report's right here. And if the Doc asks, you haven't seen her anywhere."

As a responsible First Officer, he knew he shouldn't agree to that. But B'Elanna's eyes were filled with pleading in spite of her tone, and he could understand why. If he were dying, he wouldn't want to be trapped in Sickbay either. He'd want to be on duty, surrounded by comrades, and doing something useful.

But what if she wasn't dying? What if she still had a chance?

He took the padd and made a noncommittal sound. Let them take that however they chose, but if he saw the Doctor, he had every intention of sending him Seven's way.

"I gotta go check the warp coils," said B'Elanna. "You keep monitoring the plasma flow from up here, okay, Seven?"

"Affirmative."

B'Elanna moved past Chakotay with an affectionate nod, stepped onto the lift and let it descend to the lower level. He could have sworn he saw her flick something out of the corner of one eye before she disappeared.

He and Seven were left alone in the quiet space, the thrumming of the warp core a low background music to his pounding heart, its pale blue light reflected in her eyes. B'Elanna and the small crew of engineers still busy at this hour seemed so small and far away, they might as well have been on another ship.

"Commander … " Seven's hands hesitated as she typed. "What are the beliefs of your culture regarding death?"

Chakotay's first impulse was to drive his fist through the nearest computer screen rather than have this conversation. He didn't want to be her medicine man, damn it. He didn't want to be wise or spiritual or anything else people expected him to be. Not now. Not for her. He couldn't.

"You'll find Dorvan V in the database," he said, more brusquely than he'd intended, as he turned to leave. "Look it up."

"And what do _you _believe?"

He forced himself to turn back around and meet her eyes. They were dark with pain and exhaustion, and had a silent appeal in them. She wasn't asking out of intellectual curiosity, but because she really neededto know. She wasn't asking for platitudes, but for his honest answer … no matter how painful it might be.

"I don't know," he said, rounding the console so he could stand beside her. "There are days when I can find myself on another plane of existence, and feel my family's spirits watching over me … but there are also days when the _akoonah_ seems like just a lump of metal that manipulates my brain. I wish I could be certain one way or the other … but I'm not."

He rarely spoke of this to another living soul (except for B'Elanna and Neelix, who understood), but with Seven it felt strangely natural. Perhaps because she, too, had faith of a sort; he would never forget the way her eyes had shone when she'd spoken to him about Omega. Did she still long to see the face of God? Or was she afraid of it, now that the possibility was so close?

Chakotay did long for it, he realized. What wouldn't he give right now, if he could prove to Seven that her death wouldn't be the end? But all he had to offer her were his doubts.

She nodded, pale and resigned, probably much the same as when the Doctor had diagnosed her. He wished he could see that defiance again.

"Lieutenant Torres was correct, then, when she told me the only afterlife we can be certain of is in the memories of others?"

"As far as we know, yes."

She swallowed hard and turned back to her screen. "I feared as much."

"Why?"

"You should know, Commander," she said bitterly. "You never wanted me on board, and you were justified. If you had succeeded in ejecting me from the airlock three years ago, _Voyager_ would be considerably safer."

Chakotay felt those words like a punch in the gut.

When he'd cautioned Kathryn about that Borg debris field today, he'd done it purely out of habit. He cautioned her about everything, and she never listened. He would have gone with her, if Tom and Tuvok hadn't volunteered first. He would have helped. Didn't Seven realize that by now?

_Well, if she doesn't, _his conscience reminded him, _whose fault is that?_

She had turned away from him, but he put a hand on her shoulder. "You want to know something, Seven?" She lifted her head, but did not turn around. "I'm grateful you didn't let go of that damn airlock. Without you, we'd all have been killed or assimilated years ago. And regardless of that, if you think we won't mourn for you, that cortical node of yours must be more damaged than we thought."

"And if I do not want anyone to mourn for me?"

_Spirits, be my witness. _It wasn't her own grief that was hurting her. It was everyone else's. And this was the woman he'd once assumed would never learn to be human.

"You'll just have to deal with it," he said. "That's what happens when you're loved."

She stared at him incredulously, and he wondered if anyone had ever told her that before. Someone should have. She deserved to know how much the crew cared about her.

_But what about you, old man? How do you feel about her? How would you react if she was gone?_

The answer was something he couldn't think about right now. Not if he wanted to stay sane.

He backed away, putting the console between them. She took a deep breath and focused on her screen with redoubled intensity, as if telling him to back off and let her work.

"Well," he said awkwardly. "I guess I should … leave you and B'Elanna to your work."

"You should."

"Take care, Seven."

"Good night, Commander."

He headed for the lift at a pace he meant to be average, but was really much too fast. To his embarrassment, he had to double back for B'Elanna's report, which he had forgotten on the corner of Seven's console. He snatched it and retreated again. She did not look up.

When he left Engineering through the lower level, he almost bumped into the Doctor in the corridor outside. The hologram was carrying a medkit, his round eyes frantic. He caught Chakotay's sleeve.

"Please, Commander, have you seen - ?"

"Seven? She's on the upper level."

"Thank you!" The Doctor swept past him with a grateful pat of his arm. "Of all the pig-headed, unreasonable, exasperating … dear God, I can't lose her."

Chakotay, who knew exactly how his colleague felt, headed off to the holodeck, where he beat the living daylights out of a holographic Nausicaan until he was too tired to think straight.

/

_One Week Later_

Seven was standing by Icheb's bedside, quizzing him about stellar formations while silently keeping track of the color returning to his face, when Commander Chakotay came to visit.

"I won't be long," he said apologetically to the Doctor, before approaching Icheb's biobed with a warm smile for them both. "I just came to tell Icheb that the data stream from Earth arrived, and the Academy accepted him. Congratulations, Cadet."

"Thank you, sir!" Happiness flushed Icheb's face to an almost healthy level. He adjusted the top half of the bed so he could sit up a little higher, meeting the First Officer almost eye to eye.

"We've sent all the information to your padd, so you can look at it later," said Chakotay, gesturing to Seven, who was holding the padd in her hands. She minimized the astrometrics data, saw the new message icon lit up red, and nodded to Icheb, who smiled proudly in return.

"One more thing … " The First Officer cleared his throat, pulled a data chip out of his pocket, and showed it to Seven with an almost diffident gesture, as if he wasn't sure how she'd react. "I, um … I thought the two of you could use some study materials while you're here. Doctor," he called over his shoulder, "Can I access the console in this section?"

"Be my guest!" The Doctor, who was sitting in his office with the door open, waved a hand in cheerful permission.

"Computer, dim the lights by seventy per cent."

Seven blinked as the light fixtures above Icheb's biobed faded, until the only illumination came from the padd and the computer screens around them.

"What in heaven's name - ?" exclaimed the Doctor, before letting out an irritated sigh. "Lucky I was programmed with superior vision. Care to fill us in, Commander?"

"Just a moment." Chakotay inserted the data chip into the nearest console, typed in a few commands, and stepped back. "And … there."

A sector of the Delta Quadrant burst into radiant life around them.

Stars. Planets. Nebulae. They shimmered in the darkness around them, tiny and perfect, accurate and lovely. Seven's mind raced, calculating distances, patterns, rates of decay, mineral deposits and the probability of life forms, even as her breath caught in her chest with awe. She recognized her own recent data from Astrometrics, but seeing it on a screen had never made her feel like this.

She reached out to touch a yellow star. Her hand went through it. It sparkled on her finger like a ring.

"Seven, look," Icheb exclaimed. "There's _Voyager_!" He pointed to a minuscule version of the ship hovering above him. "Look at all those M-class planets along our course. Do you think we'll be going on shore leave soon?"

"Not until the Doctor pronounces you fully recovered," Seven told him firmly. "I take it these are holographic?"

"Ingenious!" declared the Doctor, coming out of his office and spinning around delightedly in the center of the room. "Holographic décor – I can't believe I never thought of that."

"B'Elanna helped me write the program," said Chakotay. "I just had the idea. Since there are holoemitters in Sickbay already, I figured … " He shrugged. "Why not?"

His face was a study in light and shadow. Like her scans, a sight she saw every day had become beautifully strange. She couldn't look away.

He had done this for Icheb. For her son, to help him prepare for the future he had so nearly lost, a future as bright and yet ephemeral as these holographic stars. A future she would do everything in her power to protect.

He had done it for her too. _Both of you, _he'd said.

"For study materials," she murmured, "The data would have sufficed."

"Now, Seven … " The Doctor began, but she didn't need his prompting; barely registered it, in fact.

"Thank you, Commander," she breathed. "I … thank you."

Icheb echoed her moments later, still contemplating the course of the miniature _Voyager_ with absent-minded eyes.

"You're very welcome," Chakotay said. "Some convalescents like flowers, but … I thought you might prefer stars instead."

Seven glanced over at the nightstand, where tokens from their shipmates had piled up with astonishing abundance. Neelix brought a fresh bouquet from Aeroponics every day, Naomi had lent Icheb her Flotter doll, and the Captain had brought over a stack of leather-bound books. She valued them all and so did Icheb, but … he'd given them a _galaxy._

As a drone, she had watched stars go supernova, conquered planets and assimilated people without a second thought. But since then, she had learned just how precious one star, one planet, or one person could be to her. The possibility of losing them – through her death or theirs – still hurt, but it was worth it.

Stars might burn, but they shone first. She would have to focus on the light.

"I hope to see you on duty soon, Cadet," said Chakotay, making Icheb's thin hand disappear into his broad one with a grave, respectful handshake.

"Aye, sir," said Icheb. "Sir … " He frowned. "Why are you injured?"

Chakotay tried to hide both his hands behind his back, but Seven caught his right wrist and leaned in for a closer look. Bruises and scratches covered his skin, some faded, some new.

"Sparring on the holodeck," he said ruefully. "Stress relief. That's all."

She was reminded, in a most disorienting way, of her childhood on the _Raven._ Once, she had seen Mama cut herself on a laser scalpel while dissecting a dead drone. Papa had taken her hand, kissed the cut, and only then gone for the medkit. Of all the times for that memory to resurface.

"Doctor, your assistance, please," she said, deliberately professional, although she still felt the heat of Chakotay's skin even after letting go.

"Over here, Commander." The Doctor flourished his dermal regenerator like a conductor's baton. "You have no idea how relaxing it is to look after minor injuries for a change. I may never complain about monotony again."

"We'll remember you said that." Chakotay gave Seven a wry smile over the hologram's balding head.

"May I ask what's causing you so much stress?" said the Doctor, running the medical tool back and forth.

Chakotay flexed his newly repaired fingers and shrugged. "A personal matter. Never mind."

"Ah … I see." The Doctor sighed. "Well, I wish you would resolve it, whatever it might be, in a less destructive manner."

"I'll do my best," said Chakotay, with a fleeting glance at Seven before retreating toward the door.

"Don't worry, Commander," Icheb called after him, in a strong, steady voice that was a good sign for his returning health. "She's all right now."

Chakotay's frown would have been formidable if not for the blush that came with it. "You're a bright young man, Mr. Icheb," he said. "But you have a lot to learn about tact."

The doors closed behind him. Seven closed her eyes and opened them again.

The artificial gravity under her feet hadn't changed, but she still felt light-headed, as if her entire life had tilted on its axis.

It was going to take some time to figure out what that meant.


End file.
